


Drops of Colour

by evil_ontheinside



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Childhood, Gen, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, Sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-19
Updated: 2020-10-19
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:40:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27110596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/evil_ontheinside/pseuds/evil_ontheinside
Summary: A door opens somewhere as he keeps his eyes fixed on the raindrops, the colours morph from green to blue to violet, all in one fluid motion. A loud thump echoes through the air, a long sigh follows. It sounds pained. Someone doesn’t want to be there.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 13





	Drops of Colour

**Author's Note:**

> I actually started this for the Suna week coming in january but I decided to leave it like this because I felt like it and kind of wanted to post it ^^
> 
> I hope I didn't miss any tags, if you have any suggestions please let me know so I can add them :)
> 
> You can talk to me on [twitter](http://twitter.com/EOntheinside?s=08) if you want

The raindrops on the window race each other to the ground. One after the other picks up pace, gets faster and faster, stutters in its movement until it disappears at the bottom of the window, falling until it reaches the street down below. He watches them fall, one after the other. His face reflects in the glass, the neon lights from outside tinting it in strange colours. Pink, blue, green, yellow. An ad for sunscreen.

The house is quiet.

He doesn’t like quiet.

It makes the apartment feel colder with its empty rooms, abandoned by every living form except for himself.

He pulls his knees closer to his chest, his eyes drifting to the cars on the street. Some slow, mindful to the rain and the slippery surface, some without care, speeding through narrow gaps between parking vehicles and driving ones.

He can hear an ambulance in the distance. Someone must have crashed.

Maybe his parents.

He digs his finger into his calves and rests his head on his knees, cheeks squishing as his chin disappears between them.

He stares at the windowsill underneath him. Cold seeping into his body from the stone. He shivers.

The raindrops cast colourful shadows on the smooth surface. Red, blue and white. A new idol group gets introduced.

A door opens somewhere as he keeps his eyes fixed on the raindrops, the colours morph from green to blue to violet, all in one fluid motion. A loud thump echoes through the air, a long sigh follows. It sounds pained. Someone doesn’t want to be there.

He peels his right hand from his leg to touch the stone, traces random patterns as he follows the raindrops’ shadows in their movement.

Cupboards are forcefully opened and closed. Annoyance.

The cold seeps into the tip of his finger, spreads through his hand, his arm, makes a home in his body once more. He isn’t sure if it’s just the cold that makes him shiver this time.

A door opens again as the colours vanish leaving darkness behind. White tries to reach out from the street but can’t stretch high enough to illuminate the windowsill. The raindrops’ shadows become one, one patch of ink under his fingers. His fingers stop moving, eyes drowning in the darkness with nothing to stare at.

Nothing.

Colour explodes with pink, blue, green and yellow. Ad for sunscreen.

Another thump. Another slam of cupboards. Voices rise.

The house is loud.

He doesn’t like loud.

It makes the apartment feel colder with its screams, abandoned by any love it once held, maybe it had always been without love.

He doesn’t know what they are fighting about, wouldn’t understand if he knew. It’s pointless things, too small to worry about. Not important enough to scream about for hours before one leaves with a slam of the door.

He hugs his legs. Hands grabbing a calve and an elbow, head hidden behind knees, eyes closed.

He breathes. Inhales deep, imagines the smell of the sea paired with the fumes of machinery around. He holds his breath, imagines how the smell gets stuck in his nose for hours, a mixture of salt and standing in the middle of a busy road. He lets the air stream out of his mouth in in a long exhale. It’s steady.

_A slap._

The sound echoes through the apartment, unknown to his ears, at least not familiar. The screaming dies to leave the silence behind. It feels suffocating.

A thump.

A scream.

A constant change between loud and quiet.

The grip of his hands gets tighter, digs into the flesh of his calve imprinting his nails in the skin, presses at the bones in his elbow until it hurts.

He takes in a shaky breath. He imagines the breeze at the harbour, tinged with salt and gasoline, mixing in a unique way. He holds the breath, the smell stuck in his nose, making a home in his ribcage as it settles deep into his lunges. The air streams out of his mouth, unsteady like his shaking hands.

Hurried steps, a door gets slammed, a key gets turned.

Silence again.

He grips his lower arms.

Tightens his grip.

Loosens his grip.

Tightens again.

Loosens again.

He hides his head further between his legs and torso, tries to curl into a ball so he doesn’t have to see the cold ever again. Hear the cold. Feel the cold.

Someone pounds on a door. Heavy hits against sturdy wood. A shout follows. The hits get faster, the shouts louder.

They stop.

Silence.

One last shout.

A door slams shut.

He slowly uncurls himself. Red, blue and white. A new idol group.

He stretches his legs on the cold stone. His feet touch the wall, it’s cold. He slowly glides off the windowsill.

The rain drums against the glass, the raindrops now a steady stream like a waterfall on their way to the ground.

The pad of his feet on the ground sounds loud in the silence.

He climbs under the sheets, pulls the blanket over his head.

Light shines through the thin fabric. Green morphs into blue, then violet.

A key gets turned. A door opens. Quite footsteps.

A door opens, a faint creak and the bounce of a single ball.

It’s silent again save for his breathing and the exhale and inhale of another person. He forms fist around the fabric of his pillow. It’s still cold, the cloth rough. It’s wearing thin, he finds a hole.

Light footsteps, careful to not alert the attentive bump under the blankets.

The ghost of a touch brushes over his head, only gracing the blanket with a second of warmth radiating from fingertips.

**“I’m sorry Rintarou.”**

The colour vanishes, leaves darkness behind, swallows everything in its wake.

Footsteps.

A door closes quietly.

Footsteps.

The ruffle of fabric.

Footsteps.

A door closes.

Finality.

The raindrops pour out of the sky, race each other over smooth surface. One after the other they pick up pace, stutter in their movement as some gain the lead, some fall behind. They reach the end to fall to the ground.

The world explodes in colour; pink, blue, green and yellow; as tears hit the pillow.


End file.
